Last week, my blogging friend Nancy wrote about visiting Paris as a poor student, and again as an adult. I realized that I haven’t written much about my long-ago adventures from the road, so this month I’ll be sharing some of them.

I’ve always longed to travel. The summer I was sixteen, I began poring over the Saturday travel pages with an intensity usually reserved for discussing which of the Hardy Boys was the cutest. (Parker Stevenson, by a hair.) My cousin Heather and I talked about backpacking in Europe after high school, and I started cutting out the youth travel columns and saving them in a file folder. Yes, even then I was compulsively organized about my trips.

In the final year of high school Heather got a serious boyfriend (who is now her husband). I was happy for her, but it changed my travel plans. My parents were reluctant to let a naïve 18-year old schlep through Europe by herself. And then my research paid off, when I found a company that ran one-month homestays in France. I stayed for three weeks with a family who lived about an hour outside of Paris in the tiny village of Saint Cyr Sur Morin. The Marechals were the most welcoming hosts imaginable; not only did I improve my French, I learned a lot about grace and hospitality from this wonderful family.

I’ve seldom kept a diary but I did on that trip, and it’s a revelation to read it all these years later. I guess it isn’t surprising that its two major themes were food and boys.

The entries about boys weren’t all that interesting. But it’s easy to see how the summer awakened a new awareness of food in me. Coming from a small town, I was trying so many things for the first time – fish with their eyes still in, rabbit stew, croissants. (I ate my first-ever croissant in Paris. How amazing is that?)

One day we were at their friends’ house for lunch and I was served a dish that I didn’t recognize. One of the others tried to help me by saying it was “la langue”. La langue – isn’t that language? In a flash it came to me – of course, it was tongue. Maybe I should have been more adventurous, but I promise it was offal in every sense of the word.

Part of my being able to return my host family’s hospitality was baking for them, and some of my foods were as foreign to them as theirs were to me. When I announced my plans to bake a carrot cake, my French “mother” raised her eyebrows. “Une gateau? Avec carottes?’ She loved it so much that she requested I make it again the following week for company.

Raspberry pie, brownies, peach pie – I was thrilled to share my mother’s and grandmother’s recipes with my new French friends. And they were too polite to share their horror that I was putting baking soda – available only at the pharmacy – in my food.

what a special summer filled with so many new experiences! I love that you baked for your host family and introduced them to some favourite Canadian recipes. You learn so much more about a new culture when you stay with a local family. Isn't that what travelling is all about? Great post!

I love your travel stories! I am always sad I didn't travel overseas more during college. I would love to spend a month in France with a family - even now:-). I love that they were horrified over your use of soda - that is too funny!

Ha! I love that she was shocked by the idea of a cake with carrots. Thanks for sharing your memories with us~ France is at the top of my husband's list of places to go (though I think he's leaning more toward Provence than Paris~ he's not a big city guy).

I also wanted to say thanks for the sweet comment on my blog. I'm excited to be back as well! It's fun interacting with like-minded folks, and I just LOVE your posts, whether they're on travel, food, or family. I always show my husband and tell him, "When we take our dream trip around the world, this blog should be our first stop for recommendations." I actually tried baking a dessert yesterday (usually I'm more of a savory girl), and the banana cake turned out great~ not quite Beth-worthy, but tasty enough :)

Thanks for your lovely comments, Jess. I'm so flattered that you and your husband use my blog as inspiration for your travel dreams! (When you're ready to take your dream trip, let me know and I'll custom-design it for you!)

And Claudia, I'm happy to be your inspiration too. Send me a postcard!

What a wonderful experience! I encouraged my daughter to go to summer school in Europe and my father warned me: she'll never be the same. :) and she wasn't. She developed the travel bug. I never did agree with my dad. Travel is so educational, so fun and such good experience for the young.(I did a tongue post once and the comments were really funny.)

Loved reading about your time in France! When I was living in Paris I did the cooking for the family I worked for. My french wasn't great and I accidentally bought rabbit at the store. I didn't have the courage to cook it, and I probably should have! It might have been delicious.

What wonderful memories of your French family. I would have loved to see your "mother's" expression at your suggestion of carrot cake. I think it is great that you were able to share a few slices of home while you were abroad.

Beth, I feel like we are kindred spirits! Lover of food and travel...As a young girl growing up in the Philippines, I've always dreamed of travelling to Europe, esp. Paris. I, too, cut out clippings from travel brochures and newspaper columns and kept them in a folder to reference to. On my 16th birthday, my parents gifted me with a trip around Europe in a tour package setting, but what I really wanted to do was backpack on my own! I am fortunate that I was able to do that at age 22, after moving to Toronto, Canada and working 2 full-time jobs! I do envy your choice of a home stay program, though. I wish I would have known that at that time (hello, internet, where were you?). Anyway, thanks for a lovely post! I enjoyed reminiscing!

Hi Beth, I'm glad that my post sparked some good French travel memories for you. Food and cultural differences always make for great experiences, (offal or not!) I can recall being served horse in Holland--a fact that I refused to believe at the time...